


Surreal

by stuckinbetween



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Homeless, Death, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drug-Induced Sex, Drugs, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Minor Character Death, Prostitution, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Underage Drug Use, Underage Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 18:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3702199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuckinbetween/pseuds/stuckinbetween
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lines that make Louis’ body remind me of an art gallery.<br/>The beauty and surrealistic shapes haunt my every waking second of every day.<br/>Louis is a perfumed cancer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Harry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [steadyasthestars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/steadyasthestars/gifts), [rosetintmyworld](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosetintmyworld/gifts).



> I post this same story about a year ago then deleted it because I had a lot going on in my life but I've went back and edit a lot of content and plan to post weekly or possibly bi-weekly if i post shorter chapters. I hope you guys enjoy it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta all mistakes are my own

Harry

     We never really all sat around and smoked a bowl together. But today the five of us not only smoked one but twelve tight bowls. This was Louis and Zayn’s thing. Zayn really needed it more than Louis though because his body would tense up and he would get so anxious about everything and wouldn’t know how to handle himself. Niall and I were the straight edges of the five of us. We didn’t really smoke or drink or anything. Niall had an actual reason though unlike me. Zayn and Louis smoked a lot and occasionally dropped some acid if they could get enough money. Liam used alcohol. They are all escapes. We all need an escape. Niall cuts and burns but only Liam and I know about it. I still don’t have a coping method aside from my journal.

     We had just finished the last bowl and Niall was hit the hardest because he isn't really used to it. I smoke more than Niall in general but that’s only because Louis doesn’t like smoking alone so I’ll substitute for Zayn sometimes. It's not something I necessarily enjoy because I always do something that I regret when I come down. And it's always the same mistake.

      Liam and Zayn were on their makeshift bed in strange positions laughing about the way Niall was lying on the table we found at the dump about a month ago. It was small and circular so all four of his limbs hung limp off the edges of the table. I stood above him staring at him because for some reason when I smoke I find it difficult to look away from something. He was sleeping and drool was running down his chin to his ear. I smeared the drool's perfect path and imagined I was an inspired artist. The path was so perfect, like a brush stroke, unlike the rest of our paths. How the fuck did we get here? 

      I don’t mind being homeless. It’s not as bad as it could be with these four. Especially ever since Louis admit his infatuation with me. I don’t mind the way he talks to me when he smokes too much and the way he comes to my side of the room at night to cuddle me while I pretend to be asleep. Maybe it was wrong of me to let him flirt with me knowing I don’t yet know how I feel about... but fuck did I enjoy his attention.

      “Harry... Harry...HarRY...HAZZA!” Louis practically screamed. It took me a few seconds to realize he was calling me and that meant I needed to turn around. His voice echoed either in my head or off of the bare walls I could never be sure when I was flying. Sure enough when I got closer to him, he was laying on his back on my ‘bed’. “Listen, Hazza...” He began to hum some ridiculous song and I coudn’t look away from the surreal image. He was as beautiful as a picture and he looked so small on my giant makeshift bed that could double as a canvas. His humming filled my head as it replaced the echo of my name with the echo of an old pop song. I fell down right next to him almost consuming his entire body with one of my arms around his waist. He was almost completely under me.

      “You’re sooooo small, Louuu” I breathe into his hair. His hair always smelled so good. Especially after I smoke. Then again, I only ever smell it after I smoke.

      “Harry, don’t you think you’re just unnaturally large?” After a short silence we both laughed so loud we were almost as loud as Liam and Zayn’s obnoxious singing. “When are we going to wed, Haz?” He said still laughing

     "Tomorrow, Babe. Promise.”  I sigh shoving my face into is neck and my own voice begins to echo in my hollow head.

     The last thing I remember was Louis’ lip between my teeth as we struggled to pull clothes off of each other.

_4/07/2015:_

_The lines that make Louis’ body remind me of an art gallery._

_The beauty and surrealistic shapes haunt my every waking second of every day._

_Louis is a perfumed cancer._


	2. Louis

Louis

     This is our spot. This giant concrete cylinder that was supposed to be used to drain water from a river, has been dry since we all got here. Only Zayn and I know about it. We always come here when Niall and Liam are training in the gym behind the bakery Harry works at. Zayn would paint and I would skate or just sit and watch. We talk a lot but when we don’t it’s not a weird silence. In fact, I think we both quite enjoy the silence when the occasion rises.

     Today something is different. Maybe it's because today has been too normal. Something always happens on the days where everything just seems to be okay. Maybe it was just because Zayn is different when he isn’t smoking. He slouches more and smiles less. I don’t talk as much and he talks more when we can’t get a fix. I sunk myself in to the curve of the concrete and Zayn sat beside me with closed eyes before he took a deep breath. “What’s wrong, Mate?” I sigh, hugging my knees to my chest, facing forward.

     “I dunno, man. I just... I dunno.” We sit in silence for a while before he finally knows what he wants to say. He hardly ever talks without knowing exactly what to say becuse he's affraid to look stupid. Whatever that means. He's smarter than any person I've ever met. “Hope is just a fucked up concept. You know what I mean”

     “What are you going on about?”

     “I just don’t hope for anything anymore. I used to when I was little but like... I dunno I just don’t like to hope for anything because I feel like it raises my expectations and like nothing is ever what I expect. It’s always so much worse than what I expect and like nothing is ever what I hope for so I think that hope is like just a fucked up word that people use to make themselves feel better.”

     We sit in silence again before I can think of something to say. “I like to hope. I like to hope that things will get better and one day you can teach English and Haz can open his own bakery and Liam can be a trainer and Niall can buy an actual guitar and play it whenever he wants.”

     Zayn lets out half of a smile and says something unexpected “Yeah, man you can be like a famous actor or somethin’. You can travel the world and like send us letters.”

     “I could never do that. I wouldn't know where I would start or who to talk to.”

     “Yeah but imagine if you could. You could like... see the world, Mate.” I don’t reply to that because all I can think about is his rant on ‘hope’ and how he is telling me to imagine being famous right after. Shove it, Lad.

     “Maybe I’ll work for Haz and like sweep floors or somethin’. Sing to the costumers.” Zayn didn’t say anything for a few minutes but when he did, reality hit us like a train.

     “We’re never getting out of here” I study his face, remembering everything we’ve all been through together

     “It’s better than back home” I say, clenching my jaw. I can almost hear his body tense up one muscle at a time. He knows I'm right. Liam and Niall are especially much happier here. Niall’s entire family died all at once and Liam's family was so messed up he hardly talks about it even to us. Which explains his violence fits. Harry and I ran away because our homes were almost as fucked up as Liam’s and Zayn ran away because he was sick of moving in and out of foster homes. He always said we were his family anyway. We somehow ended up here, just on the outskirts of a city. We lived in an abandoned hotel that looks as though the building had been split completely in half then tossed into a grinder. We claimed a room that only has three and a half walls so we hung a blanket over the missing section and pretend like we’re not a jump away from death.

     “Fuck, man. I need a hit.” Zayn needs an escape. We all do.


End file.
